


You're The Hero..(FitzSimmons One Shot)

by Fritzen_lcaos



Series: The FitzSimmons Chronicles [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of SHIELD, Agents of Shield Season 2, Angst, Brain Damage, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, FitzSimmons fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Season 2, fitz's brain damage, fitzsimmons angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4618509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritzen_lcaos/pseuds/Fritzen_lcaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Simmons left their team, Fitz has not been the same. Between the injury and her absence, his mind is not getting any better. Everyone he considered his friends are unable to help him, for they lack the one thing he so desperately needs: Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're The Hero..(FitzSimmons One Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote last year after I found out he was hallucinating Simmons. I was so angry that I had to write out my feelings. Actually, I needed to express Fitz's feelings. His emotions, what made him tick. I am sorry if this is not the absolute best one shot in the world, but hey.. It is a story, right? I played off of one of my fave scenes from season one, where she reminded him that he was the hero. Angst, fluff. What more could you ask for in a FitzSimmons fic? ;)  
> -StarLorki

It has been different since she left.

Cold.

Quiet.

He waits to hear the sounds of her flats clicking on the metal floor, her hands flipping through papers or turning a project of theirs over and over in her hands.

The area around him stays still, not a sound is coming from anywhere. He listens deeply, waiting to hear one of her exasperated sighs as she drops the project onto the table, or for the sound of her voice coming out chipper, yet irritated.

It never meets his ears.

It was as if he were waiting for the sound to come to him, for the room to breath her sigh. He waited for the projects before him to make her appear over his shoulder, ready to help.

She never came.

It felt like years since she left, but he knew it only had been months.

He did the math though, between his heavy, broken heart and his heavily burdened mind, it had indeed been far too long.

Soon, people stopped saying her name. What once was their names spoken together, was broken apart within the first month.

While everyone else forgot, his heart and mind refused to do so. Even if she was not there physically, she was spiritually. Over his shoulder and standing beside him, she helped piece him back together.

He muttered things to a shadow that was never there, to the people around him they assumed that he was growing crazy.

It was the injury that broke him, it was her leaving that destroyed him.

One month passed onto two, before slowly moving into the third and fourth. She was fading from him again, the memories were slowly fading in and out. He struggled to hold onto her voice, her touch, her smell.

It became muddled with memories that were new, the pain of his injury growing strong in his mind, his lungs gasping for air.

Four months grew into six, things went drastically down hill from there. Words never left his mouth, for the memories he held dear were gone. Her voice no longer filled his head, as if the only player available to play it had long since broken.

His hands never moved, never worked to fix what needed fixing. Often his attempt would result in something breaking and his frustration.

His friends around him would look on with sad eyes, but no words ever left their mouths. There was nothing to be said.

The day came, when the friends around him really grew worried. He stopped eating, refused to leave his room.

He stared at the wall, his hands pressed firmly in his lap. Anyone that entered saw first hand that their friend was losing it, but nothing said could change his mind.

She was gone, without her there he saw no reason to continue trying.

He was not like his friends, heroes out on the field, risking his life. He was dead weight, someone that lost his mind and should have lost his life long ago.

She said he would only get better if she left.

Now it was her turn to leave his friends, where they would be better off without him.

The door to his room opened, but he made no effort to look or address the person who entered in. He did notice, however, the unusual yet familiar warmth this being brought to the room.

It was as if someone turned on the switch to his senses.

The person took a few steps forward, pausing slightly at the end of his bed. He could see that this familiar person was wringing their hands together, their lower lip furiously being chewed on.

“I came at once,” she muttered, her words were like a familiar song he had not heard in years.

“They told me you stopped functioning and I-Oh gosh, this is all my fault.” she was near crumpling, he could hear tears in her voice.

Something about this voice, this person, it intrigued him. Yet, he kept his gaze on the wall.

“Damn, this is all my fault. If I never left, if I had not been so stupid-Oh please, tell me you hear me?”

He heard her, loud and clear. Something was keeping him from saying it, though. The voice, though familiar, did not wake him up enough to respond.

Her voice came out in a sob, as if she kept this emotion built up for ages.

“Fitz?” her voice came out, crisp and clear.

His eyes widened with surprise, as every sudden memory and thought came rushing to his mind in a giant wave.

He looked at her suddenly, his eyes wide with surprise. She stood there before him, her hair up in its usual pony tail, her eyes brimming with tears, her face streaked and wet.

He knew her, this girl. He knew her looks, her hair, her eyes, her voice. Her name.

“S-Simmons?” His words stuttered, dry and cracked.

As if overwhelmed by his words, her tears came quicker, a large smile cracking her face.

“Oh, Fitz!” she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, grasping him tightly to her.

He was surprised by this sudden burst of emotion, but excepted it gratefully.

No one has ever made him feel this way, not in so long. Having her near him again was like taking his first breath in ages.

She broke her tight hold to look him in the eyes, tears were still streaming down her face.

“I was a fool, Fitz. A real fool. I nearly cost you your life.”

She took a shaky breath, her arms still around his neck.

“You lived, all these months without me and despite some unusually peculiarities, you survived this long. You're the hero, Fitz.”

Hearing her words was enough to break him out of his spell, where he was able to meet her eyes for the first time in six months.

Even after so much time away from her, she was still the same beautiful girl he knew and love.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he brought his face closer to hers.

“You are wrong, Simmons.”

He placed his forehead to hers, leaving his lips inches from hers.

“You came back, that takes a lot of bravery.”

His lips met hers before he could even finish his sentence, taking his breath in the best way that it ever could.

Their lips parted long enough for him to get a glimpse into her eyes, and onto the fact that this was now reality.

“Jemma Simmons, you're my hero.”


End file.
